Awake until dawn Switching sleep until eyes are weary At wrong times of day Getting off All out of whack Embarrassed by that A bit of Johnny’s fervor and humor A cocktail from a tiny plastic cup Sticking the tip of your tongue into the very bottom To lick every last red drop up Going into the bathroom with your book and your Phone in case a message comes while you’re not at home...
The Loaves and Der Fishies
I sawr a worm man wrrrrriggling his fingers pinching out the last piece of his satisfied pie. I sawr him eating every bloody bit his hams hawing away at each savory morsel of his third eye. I sawr two farm girls running through the stinking swalor of the half moon sky. I sawr them twitch and scratch at head like poor Tom o’Bedlam up on the stage near by. I sawr a young...
It’s like I’ve been chasing you for years Running behind you Breathless And now I’ve given up and I’m strolling behind you Watching you begin to disappear Around the bend A year ago I would have fallen on my sword revealing all of the emptiness pouring out from ‘neath my wounds that wouldn’t heal for months But now I play the Tarot and understand why the Page...
Find what you love and let it kill you.– Bukowski (via sarahpoetica)
The Things We Cannot Say.
There are many things we cannot say. But we think we think them anyway. And we do. Think things about the things we want and could not have but have them anyway. And we do. Make plans to do the things we want to have the freedom anyway. But we don’t And so there are the things we cannot say even if we think them anyway. And we will. We’ll think them on and on until we’ve gone for...
I was born a bastard So I will take the new last name of Snow Born in the heat of lughnasadh After a hasty nuptial in the Dead drifts of winter on the anniversary of your Mother’s Birth A festive time it is, The coming into being Of beings. But what of the going out of being? I wish to take the black Be a crow Rhyme the true last Name I was given to legitimize illegitimacy I...
I just found out that Isaac Asimov lived in my former house on Lowell St. In MA for five years in the 1950s! I now attribute my prolific writing (100+ prose poems in one year) to the ghost of his literary spirit.
Blue Moon Mountain Stomp
A week ago the whole blue moon could have swallowed me as I came careening down the side of a mountain instead of feeling the bigness of that I played “what if?” and came out of the tunnel with guns blazing My cowboy hat was askew though so I had to dig in my spurs and let the breeze blow right up my skirt The Great Justifier picked up sticks and carried them in a bundle on...
The end of the affair.
In the churning pit of my stomach are the glowing hot embers of the end of my affairs. Tidying up the last minute details. Letting my son brush my hair until it’s smooth again, though my spirit has been twisted into unmanageable, hateful, impossible knots. No one is patient enough to follow the string to its rightful length. I write farewell letters and then realize there’s no one...
When I come to I find myself standing in the kitchen. My hands are busy wiping, straightening, organizing. My mind is numb. I am staring straight ahead perhaps gazing apathetically at a pile of dust or papers or thoughts that have crept in to wound me again. I am not even sure what has called me out of this stupor. Maybe it was one of the thoughts, like a shout through a thick glass door. It...
Left bank I’m waiting for someone Someone to be my friend Outside traffic’s running slowly I hear it from my window Without you I’m getting lost Without you there’s no release I can’t hold the sun I can’t hold the sun It’s raining Love is not around me How can it get so cold Homesick This is how I feel now This is how you left me Without...
Let me breathe for you. Let me know you too. Let me take the pain from you. Oh… And let me see you through your eyes I will be at your side. I’ll surround you And protect you. Let me glow with you And I will cut all the blues To decorate your room. Oh… Let us consciously decide That we will be each others guides To navigate the room. Oh… Ooh…...
Your silence is an ocean That I bob helplessly in Adrift among the flotsam Who nibble at my toes I hold no hope of rescue So I close my eyes and let go If the lonely moan of a mayday Startles me conscious I’ll give you a bleary eyed weary wave And begin to sink Into the arms Of Davy Jones
What do I do with this raging beast of anger that stands guard in the hollow of my chest? When I think of how I spoke to you my fears of losing my footing forever. You pulled the rug. I want to forgive you and not hold this furious devil’s hand but you’ve left me stranded in an ocean of worry and longing and despair. I want to bite at you and spit and shout and scream. You did...
Picasso, did you dream me up?
Am I one of your nudes? Dickens, did you dream me up? Am I one of your neurotic caricatures of a woman? Mozart, did you dream me up? Am I one of your recitatives? Nietzsche, did you dream me up? Am I one of your empty things? Yes. I am your nude. Yes. I am your neurotic caricature of a woman. Yes. I am your recitative. Yes. I am your empty things. It is my turn to dream you up. ...
Look at me...
I’m as helpless as a kitten up a tree i make tiny mewling calls if i jump down to the ground i will crack and splatter a little mass of fur and bone and blood so i cling to this branch my claws deeply embedded i draw the tree’s sap from its source i don’t know how i got here i look back along the ...
A night in which our nine souls collide.
Three And Three And Three How symmetrical we like to be And that which is nine from biblical seven and binary two Or satanical six and trinity divine We’ve come right down the line We planted a seed in the center of the Marriage bed And waited for it to bloom But it took so long that we fell Into a deep dreamy slumber And woke up I the shade of our bodhi tree Growing now...
i can’t come home my homelessness belongs to you to music there is a tiny tendril of a violin coming up like a newborn blade of grass love me all the time and never leave me please come on back to me you’re lonely as can be you sing that is what began the axe fall a swift thwack as the blade severed you that’s when it hurt me please remember fragmented ...
I passed over the ghost of a house When I walked by I think I felt the memory Rippling under my feet It’s frightening to face a new year alone No one is home and the phone keeps on ringing You can fix it so that you can see who’s calling But you can never be sure that the person who’s calling is the person who will answer There are things you can be sure of But they slip...
I am laying softly In the biting quiet of my Declarations of Independence. You turned your head and nodded Going off into the sparkling Sunset of my dreamworlds. You remain the Dream King, there And rule with an iron fist Feeling the terrible pangs of Loss And weeping over your queen’s burial mound. You call forth the shamans Ancient spectors of my ancestry Seers of the truth....
A floppy weird Fish is Wrrrrriggling On the end of your hook. You can’t be sure that you Are entirely Responsible for Its long demise. When first you Cast out your Gossamer line You hoped for that telltale tug. But eventually you had to admit That you may Have misjudged things A bit. But it was through no fault Of your own You couldn’t expect each permutation ...